Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
“A murder?” Mary Elizabeth gasped and slapped one hand over her mouth. “But… but…” Her words fell apart before she could finish the thought.
The entire drive from the Milkery to the sheriff’s department had felt unreal.
Not only had Al and Tucker roped off the inside of the Milkery, but they’d blocked the entrance road, too, with patrol lights flashing against the white fencing and silos.
By the time Hank drove Mary Elizabeth and Dawn into town, with Dottie and me following in my little Focus, word had already started spreading through Normal faster than grease through a biscuit.
“I’m not really sure ‘murder’ is the right term yet.” I tried to soften the blow while we stood in the parking lot behind the courthouse. “I just overheard something about possible poisoning.”
“And you think she poisoned herself?” Dottie huffed, leaning against the hood of the car while we got Mary Elizabeth calmed down so we could prepare to head inside.
“We don’t know anything yet,” I said carefully. “Maybe she ate something that didn’t agree with her.”
“I did not poison anyone,” Mary Elizabeth snapped. Her eyes widened immediately after the words left her mouth, and she looked horrified at herself. “I mean… oh, Lord. Listen to me.”
Dawn gently rubbed her back. “Nobody’s accusing you of anything.”
“I hosted the event.” Mary Elizabeth’s voice shook. “Those women were my guests. Florence ate at my table. Slept in my house.”
“Mary Elizabeth, breathe.” Hank reached for her hand immediately.
The Normal Sheriff’s Department sat tucked behind the courthouse in its usual state of tired brick and quiet chaos. Patrol cars lined the side parking lot while fluorescent light spilled from the small front lobby windows. Even this late at night, the place looked busy.
“Come on,” Hank said softly. “Let’s get inside before the whole town shows up.”
“That ship already sailed,” Dottie muttered while eyeing two older women slowing their car down beside the parking lot entrance, trying to peek at who’d arrived.
The second we stepped through the sheriff’s department doors, the familiar smells wrapped around me. Burnt coffee, old wood, and disinfectant. A hint of cigarette smoke that permanently lived inside Dottie’s clothes no matter how much Febreze she used.
The small front lobby buzzed softly under fluorescent lighting.
Behind the sliding glass dispatch window sat Granny Agnes Swift, wearing a lavender cardigan, with reading glasses low on her nose, while she poured coffee into Styrofoam cups from a stained pot that probably qualified as evidence itself.
“Well,” Agnes announced before anybody even spoke. “This night done turned into a complete mess.”
Her gray eyes immediately landed on Mary Elizabeth. The feisty expression softened.
“Oh, honey.” Granny Agnes pushed herself up from her chair. “Come here.”
Mary Elizabeth walked straight toward the dispatch window and nearly burst into tears when Agnes reached through the opening to grab her hand.
“I just can’t believe it,” Mary Elizabeth whispered. “Florence was fine.”
Agnes shook her head slowly. “Sometimes life changes quicker than a tire blowout.”
Dottie immediately wandered toward the coffee station. “Please tell me you got fresh coffee.”
“You’ll drink what’s there or go thirsty,” Agnes shot back. Dottie glared back as Granny Agnes reached under the counter to hit the button to buzz us into the guts of the department.
The buzzer sounded, and Hank opened the second locked door leading into the main office area.
The department looked exactly like it always did.
Desks covered in paperwork. Half-empty coffee cups scattered everywhere.
A camping-style folding table shoved against one wall with stale doughnuts sitting beneath plastic wrap.
Phones ringing somewhere in the back offices while deputies moved through the cluttered space, carrying folders and talking too loudly.
Al Hemmer’s office sat to the left behind glass walls streaked with fingerprints and old tape residue. Even from the hallway, I could see stacks of files threatening to collapse off every surface inside.
“Mae.” Hank lowered his voice while Al and Tucker disappeared toward the interrogation rooms. “What exactly did Colonel say?”
I glanced toward Mary Elizabeth before answering. “He mentioned pinpricks in Florence’s eyes.”
Hank’s jaw tightened immediately.
“Yeah,” Dottie muttered while dumping powdered creamer into her coffee. “That’s the face everybody makes right before poison gets mentioned.”
“Keep your voice down,” I hissed.
Agnes shuffled out from behind dispatch, carrying a tray of Styrofoam cups. “Well, if it is poison, this town better brace itself because people around here lose their ever-lovin’ minds over murder.”
“Murder at the Milkery,” Dawn corrected quietly while sitting beside Mary Elizabeth at the long folding table. “That’s what scares me.”
And honestly, she wasn’t wrong.
The Milkery wasn’t just a bed-and-breakfast. It was Mary Elizabeth and Dawn’s livelihood. Their pride, reputation, and home.
Al finally emerged from his office, balancing a yellow legal pad and a pen that already appeared to be malfunctioning.
Sweat darkened the collar of his oversized brown sheriff uniform while his crooked hat sat pushed too far back on his head.
Tucker followed him, looking far calmer in his ranger uniform.
“All right,” Al announced, trying to sound official. “We just need to ask some questions.”
Mary Elizabeth immediately straightened in her chair. “Am I under suspicion?”
“No, ma’am,” Tucker answered before Al could fumble the response. “We’re just establishing timeline and event details.”
Dottie leaned toward me. “That’s ranger talk for ‘everybody’s suspicious till proven otherwise.’”
I elbowed her quietly.
Al sat across from Mary Elizabeth and flipped open his notebook. “Let’s start simple. Walk me through the tea fundraiser from the beginning.”
Mary Elizabeth took a shaky breath and folded her hands together on the table. “The Historical Society fundraiser started around eleven thirty. Guests arrived shortly after that.”
“Who attended Florence’s table?” Tucker asked while standing nearby with his arms crossed.
“Florence Sparks, Tara Kelly, Alice Charles, and Mae hosted the table.” Mary Elizabeth glanced toward me briefly. “The seating arrangements had to be changed last-minute after one donor backed out.”
Tucker immediately looked up. “Changed how?”
“The place cards got rearranged.” Dawn answered this time. “Nothing dramatic. We just had to move a few women around to balance donations and sponsorships.”
Dottie muttered into her coffee, “Ain’t nothin’ scarier than wealthy women and assigned seating.”
Al scribbled furiously before his pen stopped working. He clicked it repeatedly. Nothing happened.
“Dadgum it.” He reached into his shirt pocket for another one.
Tucker kept going without missing a beat. “Did Florence seem upset during the event?”
Mary Elizabeth hesitated.
“Yes,” I answered honestly before she could sugarcoat it. “There was tension at the table.”
“What kind of tension?” Al asked quickly.
I glanced around the room. Even Agnes looked invested now.
“Tara Kelly clearly had history with Florence,” I explained. “And Alice Charles disagreed with Florence about conservation funding.”
Al looked down at his notes. “Did Florence argue with anyone directly?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Not openly. But she wasn’t exactly warm either.”
Mary Elizabeth sighed heavily. “Florence could be difficult socially. After all, she was Ms. Manners of Kentucky. She believed strong opinions were a personality trait.”
“That’s a polite way of sayin’ bossy,” Agnes muttered while passing out more coffee.
Tucker flipped through a small notebook. “What happened after the fundraiser ended?”
“Most guests dispersed around the property,” Dawn explained. “Some toured the greenhouse. Some stayed in the gardens. Florence went upstairs eventually to freshen up before heading to the campground.”
“Tara and Alice?”
“They were both still at the Milkery when we left,” Mary Elizabeth answered. “That’s why I became concerned when they never arrived at Happy Trails until later.”
“Later?” Tucker questioned.
“That’s why Dottie and I were at the Milkery. The three women didn’t show up to the campground fundraiser when they said they were going to, and Mary Elizabeth had me drive over to check on them,” I said and gestured to Dottie too.
“I think we passed one of them Uber thangies,” Dottie said, flinging a finger back at me.
“Which was coming from the direction of the Milkery, so I’m assuming Tara and Alice took an Uber to the campground.”
“Mm-hmm.” Dawn nodded. “They did show up in an Uber, but they acted as if nothing was wrong. I asked where Florence was, and they told me she said she’d get her own ride.”
“From whom?” I asked.
Dawn shrugged.
The room fell quiet for a second.
Because that was the biggest problem sitting in all our minds right now.
Right then, the front door of the sheriff’s department burst open hard enough to rattle the glass.
Queenie French came storming inside, still wearing her purple sequined workout top and headband from earlier. Her blond hair looked flatter than usual from sweat and humidity while panic practically rolled off her in waves.
“Oh my Lord,” she gasped while clutching one hand against her chest. “Tell me it isn’t true.”
Dottie whispered toward me, “And here comes the dramatic portion of the evening.”
Queenie ignored her completely and rushed toward Mary Elizabeth. “I heard Florence Sparks is dead.”
The room went silent again.
Mary Elizabeth’s eyes instantly filled. “Queenie…”
“I left the campground for twenty minutes to change clothes, and suddenly everybody in town’s callin’ me!” Queenie turned toward Al. “What happened?”
Al shifted awkwardly in his chair. “At this point, we’re investigating an unattended death.”
“Toxin,” Dottie muttered into her coffee cup. “Poison.”
“Dottie,” three of us snapped at once.
Queenie’s face drained completely. “Poison?”
Nobody answered directly.
Which was answer enough.
Queenie slowly sat down in the nearest chair. “This is going to ruin the Historical Society.”
Dawn blinked at her. “That’s your first concern?”
“Well, no,” Queenie sputtered. “Of course not. But also yes, a little, because Florence was one of our biggest donors.”
Al rubbed one hand across his sweaty forehead. “We still need to locate Tara Kelly and Alice Charles.”
“Maybe they are still at the campground,” Agnes suggested while setting out a box of doughnuts from the Cookie Crumble.
Tucker looked up sharply. “Can someone check?”
“Well, I reckon I can call Hank.” Dottie slowly lowered her coffee and took out her bedazzled phone from her pocket.
Al immediately stood up so fast his chair squealed against the floor.
“If they try to get into the bed-and-breakfast, they will not be able to get in. Deputies are back out there now.” He pointed wildly toward one of the younger officers walking through the office. “Call them to see if any of the Milkery guests are showing up.”
The deputy hurried off while Tucker grabbed his ranger hat from the desk.
“What does that mean for me and my guests?” Mary Elizabeth asked.
“You can’t stay there tonight. We have to make sure this isn’t a crime scene,” Al told her bluntly.
We all turned to look when Dottie’s cell phone rang out an old-fashioned telephone ring.
“It’s Henry. He says there are still folks there, and Tara and Alice are too.” She held up her phone. “They are on the dance floor with the rest of the Laundry Club Ladies.”
“Happy Trails is about the only place in Normal that hasn’t gotten the memo.
” I sighed and reached down for my bag. “Tell Henry to make sure they don’t leave.
Mary Elizabeth, you and Dawn come on back to the campground.
I can put you two up in an open camper, and I’ll have to have Tara and Alice bunk in a bungalow. ”
“I reckon we might see the state po-leece show up when Tara tells the govern’r what’s going on.” Dottie was right about that.
“Well, if they do show up, they ain’t going to take her out of here until I get an interview out of her,” Al said, standing up and tugging on the waist of his uniform pants. “Mary Elizabeth, I’ll talk to you later. Try to get some sleep. Queenie,” he called out and gestured for her to come in.
“My turn?” she asked and shook her head.
“When you’re finished up here,” I told her as I passed her, “come to the campground. I’ll gather the girls, and we can chat.”
“Mae, now don’t you go puttin’ your head on this,” Al warned. “This is o-fficial sheriff-ing business with the govern’r involved soon. You leave it up to the authorities.”
“No problem, Al,” I said and waved my hand over my head while I took Mary Elizabeth by the elbow, guiding her to the outside door.
Little did he know the fingers I had in the crook of Mary Elizabeth’s arm were crossed.